“No in science and engineering actually,” Irons replied with a tiger smile. Fu's body stilled. “Also hyperspace and subspace navigation, piloting, mechanical and electronic engineering, programming, teaching, medicine, metallurgy,” he bowed to the resident doctors. “Alien psychology, Diplomacy, Human resource management,” he said letting them digest that for a moment “And law among other things. And yes tucked in there are a couple of master degrees in ship construction and design and fleet management and fighting.” He shrugged and took a drink from his glass and then set it down on a tray off to the side. A butler bot hovered over and scooped it up with a light beeping scold and then left.
He surveyed the room with cold shark like eyes. “I've done quite a bit in my one hundred and five years of life. I've worked on the Stargate program, I've worked on a Dyson Sphere, I've worked on hyper platforms, set up science stations, and I've been across the breath of the Federation and back again several times.”
“I am an engineering admiral, a damn good one and I am proud of what I've seen and done in my life. Eight decades in the service, seven as an officer, four as a flag officer. The things I've built, the science... Can any of you say the same?” He looked around the room but no one rose to the bait.
Irons turned back to the crowd. “To quote a famous twentieth century admiral, Trained in the art of war and the profession of peace,” he said, making sure his command presence was felt in the room at large.
“I don't see how any of that matters,” a portly mayor said clearing his throat. He had a brass chain in his pocket that was clipped to the front of his vest. He liked to hold the front of his jacket lapel like an old Earth politician in the middle of a speech. Irons looked at him and then to the Fu's.
The admiral turned to him. “I'm just pointing out that I'm far from the most uneducated person in this group. I did a bit more than a couple of years at a high end or junior college on mommy or the state's dime and then off to a cushy job. To be in the military means you have to learn a lot of jobs. Piloting, navigation, managing a ship and crew, engineering, search and rescue, and many many many other jobs. It is a constant process, both in learning new skills and keeping old ones up to date and sharp in case of need. A ship is as much a college as it is a starship.”
“True,” Taylor Warner said with a smile. “I remember admiral,” he said saluting Irons with his virtual glass. Irons nodded his way. Rasha was on Taylor's arm. She nodded back, stiff with pride as she looked around the room.
“Oh and these?” Irons asked, pointing to the medals. His fingertip lingered on the medal of honor and the golden comet. Fu looked at them and then looked away. “Yes I earned them in combat. Some of them anyway.” His finger lingered over the highest medals for a moment more. More than one old eye locked onto them as well.
“I paid a high price for some of them. Sometimes too high in my opinion,” he paused for a moment in bitter memory before continuing. “That's my burden though. I went into the fire with my friends and comrades, watching them die around me willingly to give their lives to save others.” His right hand raised and changed to a silver color. His right eye flared brightly and then faded back to normal. The implants in his body glowed a bright blue before fading. He seemed to swell, to brighten like a blue star before fading out.
“But others like oh this and this and this... and this...” He pointed out a few here and there, tracing his fingertip under a few. “These were earned saving people. Riding to the rescue of a ship or station in trouble. When a solar flare erupts, black hole, accident, terrorism, or mischief. That's one of the other roles of the military. It's not just to keep the barbarians outside the gates,” he said coldly looking around again.
“When I was in Pyrax a year ago there was a solar flare. They have them from time to time. This one hit a colony head on. Thousands died. Many were Taurens,” he said nodding to Gwen who stiffened.
“None of the other colonies lifted a finger to help. They were all wrapped up in their own lives, their own misery. All just trying to get by comfortably. They wrung their hands and said someone should do something but they themselves did nothing.”
He looked around for a moment, eyes glittering. “But I sent the nearest ships in to do what they could the moment I heard the news. To try to save those that we can. To rebuild the colony. That's one of the reasons I put on this uniform. So before you denigrate it with your hypocritical attitudes maybe you should think about that some.”
“You are still a barbarian,” a mayor said lifting his nose.
“Maybe,” Irons replied turning to him. “But then again, maybe not. I'm not afraid of the application of force. I'm not going to resort to it every time though. It is a tool I can use if I must, but it is a tool of last resort.”
“You killed the cybers,” Fu murmured.
“And you didn't hypocrite?” Sprite demanded rounding on him. He turned to her, eyes glinting coldly. His back was stiff. His arms were tucked into his sleeves behind him. “He killed people who were killing others. Serial killers who killed out of boredom. For fun,” she said, eyes flashing. “They were a danger to themselves and others. To this station and it's community.” She tapped a virtual foot and pointed down to the deck with her right index finger.
More than one mayor looked at Fu over that. They had their own experiences with frontier justice. It of course made them a little uncomfortable to admit it in front of such distinguished company however. “You killed the helpless. The ones who were lost in dream, who couldn't fight back. You were too afraid to fight or stop the ones who were hurting others. But it didn't stop you to kill the dreamers did it?” she snarled, fully incensed. “To snuff out their lives even though they were doing nothing to harm you?”
He stared at her for a long moment. She held her ground, crossed her arms and raised an eyebrow. “Well? We're waiting to hear your so called justification.” After a moment his image winked out. His wife looked surprised and then sad. She winked out too after bowing slightly. “Yes, that's what I thought,” Sprite said turning to the others with a slight air of triumph. “You can't make the hard decisions. None of you can. When it comes down to a crisis none of you are trained like a military person is.” She ran a hand down her side and her dress changed into a formal dress uniform. “Like I am,” she said, straightening her shoulders. Her commander insignia gleamed and sparkled. Irons knew she was highlighting the rank insignia on purpose.
“Let he who is without sin cast the first stone,” Sid murmured softly. Irons looked his way and then nodded to Sprite. He hadn't called her on coming to the party in civilian clothes. Now he was glad he hadn't.
“Tell me, how many of you learned anything new while as a cyber in the dark times?” Irons asked looking around. “Learned the skills to help Averies and the others survive. The Stewards did, did anyone else?” he asked looking around the room. “You had plenty of time after all. All of you could have learned something in seven centuries right? You're not that stupid right?
He smiled a cold cruel smile when no one volunteered anything. In fact most of the old guard were now looking distinctively uncomfortable and down at their virtual shoes. “I thought not,” he said quietly, mouth twisting in a cruel tight lipped smile of pity. “Couldn't sully yourselves with menial tasks even if it was for your own survival. With doing what needs to be done. That's a peon's task after all. It's too bad Fu left. I was going to point out that his precious game of Go and Chess were both created as military strategy games.”
“Ouch,” Warner said with a grin. He knew Irons was twisting the knife to get some of his own back. The admiral was probably doing more harm than good but he seemed to be getting some of his anger out. Venting had its uses after all.
“Then of course there is all that calligraphy some of you love to do. Veraxin poetry...” He shook his head amused. “I took that in college as well. I've been to the home world of the Veraxin, of the T’clock, of humanity. I've been educated in their cultures. Don't lecture me on
education. None of you, none of you can hold a candle to me. I'm a teacher, a professor. I've been a teacher longer than some of you have been alive.”
He let that sink in for a long moment. He shook his head, studying them. None of them were really getting it. They were closing ranks against him, he could feel it. Fine. All he was getting was hostile expressions from the mayors. Randall looked both hostile and amused. He knew this was going to make the circuit since the cameras were on filming it all; it was going to hurt his cause more than help it. But he had to try.
“I've been trained folks, that's what it boils down to. I see the promises you make and it makes me wince. Politicians are known to say that. To make promises they know they can't keep. Lie in other words. Lie big. The bigger the promise the bigger the lie. Try to sort it out and pay for it later. I've seen it in school when a child ran for class president.” The sleepers and a hand full of old guard people smiled a little at that dig. They of all people remembered the class presidents and how they would campaign on no more homework or shorter school days.
He looked around the room once more. “I've seen it my entire life. So have you. So have the people you are lying to, they don't believe half of what you promise. None of you have any education in the macro. You have great people skills, you can deal with small groups, shaking hands, kissing babies, photo ops... but can any of you handle the big picture? Handle things on a planetary scale? What about the entire star system? What about dealing with other star systems? I'm trained for it are you? I'm willing to help but you're not willing to listen.” He shook his head sadly. He knew the appeal was falling on deaf ears.
“I've got a question, you are all beating your chests about what you want, what are you going to do when the real barbarians show up? What are we going to do?” Warner asked, looking around. His wife took his virtual hand. His fingers stroked it as he looked down at it and then up to her eyes. “I've lived a full life,” he said to the room at large before he turned to confront them. “I know eventually death will come for me. But there are others here just starting their lives. What do we do when the barbarians are here? You can't stop them at the gate when there is no gate! When you don't invest in it! Filing an injunction won’t WORK!”
“And when they arrive it will be too late,” Irons murmured in the ensuing uncomfortable silence. “You will watch helplessly as everything you tried to accomplish burns around you. They will take what they want and leave you dead or crying over the dead.”
“You made your point Irons,” a voice murmured.
“In the kingdom of the blind the one eyed man is not king. He's stoned to death,” Emily said. Others around her reared back from her in shock and dismay. She hunched her shoulders and then shrugged spreading her hands. Irons snagged another drink from a butler bot and then took a swig before nodding to her. Someone else understood his predicament.
Irons understood the analogy of course. He twisted his mouth and then downed his drink and held up a finger. An exhalation went around the room; they had assumed he was done. When the drink was gone he smiled bitterly. “No, just one little tidbit more. The admiral who said the quote? Trained in the art of war and the profession of peace?” he asked, turning. “He was also a lawyer,” he said, shooting a look at the politicians with a little extra oomph to the lawyers like D'red. He nodded to Sid Berkheart and the Warners then turned and walked out. After a moment Sprite blinked out as well.
“And now you know why the military should be seen and not heard,” Randall said, downing his drink.
“Oh shut up asshole,” Warner snarled and blinked out. His wife blinked out as well.
“Well!” Sandra said with a sniff of disdain. “Some people!” She tucked her arm into her husband's and tried her best to smile politely and salvage the situation.
“Thanks commander,” Irons said to her quietly as he made his way down the companionway to his quarters. He nodded to a few people he recognized in passing. Most of the expressions that were directed his way were neutral. A few were hostile, but only a few. Some looked like they were interested in his formal uniform and medals. Sprite nodded on her HUD.
“Think it did any good admiral?” she asked.
He frowned and then shook his head. He had to be honest with himself, what he had done had needed to be said but it had probably done more harm than good in the long run. In the short run things were pretty fracked up and appeared to be on the road to staying that way for the foreseeable future. At least until something came along to shake things up. “Doubtful. You can't make people listen and think. You can't wake them up; they have to do it on their own. I think they will close their eyes and ears and just stay the course. Damn them,” he muttered.
“Great,” she sighed. “So, the question is, do we?” She was still listening in at the reception. Most of the people were now looking at the admiral with even more hate and resentment, now because he seemed better than them and knew it. He'd rubbed their noses into it and that hadn't set well at all. There were some choice comments about his looking down at them. It was ironic; they had snubbed him because they thought that they were better than him. When he rubbed their collective noses in the truth they of course didn't like it and resented him even more. The one eyed man truly wasn't king.
“I'm going to keep trying if that's what you are asking. I haven't given up completely yet. But I'm putting a whole lot more focus on my go to hell plan. Just in case,” he said finally. Actually he was going to throw just about everything he had at his little escape plan now, he thought. There was no point in sticking around here anymore to watch everything he'd worked to accomplish burn around him. He hated feeling both frustrated and helpless.
Sprite sighed. “Admiral about that quote...”
“Did I mangle it?” Irons asked slowing his stride. That quote was one of his favorites in cases like this.
She shook her head. “No, but I should point out that the quote is from a twentieth century television show,” she replied. She smiled at his sudden snort.
“Oops,” he said and then chuckled softly.
“Well, you got part of it right. It did come from an actor playing an admiral who was a lawyer.”
“Ah,” Irons said with a shrug. “Whatever works, it's a good quote,” he said.
“Definitely.”
“Still not happy about leaving?” Irons asked.
“Let's just say I've still got mixed feelings about it. But I'm leaning more and more to the dark side.”
He smiled. “Glad to have you aboard Commander.”
“I'm not there yet Admiral. There is still a chance they will change their minds,” she tried to sound hopeful but he could hear an edge of doubt creeping into her voice. She was at least honest with him in expressing it in that way. Good he thought.
“They're politicians. They do that on a daily basis if the polls change or flat out refuse to change if they look weak. Either way I'm not waiting in the wings for an answer. Not for much longer anyway,” Irons growled.
What also irked him was that he could be an asset for any of the politicians if they thought of it. Oh he couldn't and wouldn't take sides, he wouldn't endorse anyone unless their opponent really was incompetent, but he could offer free advice on strategy on a variety of subjects. Instead they used him as a rallying point to point a finger at and blame or deride.
“Maybe if they hear about your leaving that will shake them up you wonder?” Sprite mused.
He frowned. “It's a thought. We'll see. I bet they'll throw a party when they hear the news,” Irons replied disgustedly as he tugged on the collar of his uniform. “Time to get out of this monkey suit and into my coverall. I've got some real work to do.”
“Is he right?” Mrs. Fu asked softly. Her husband grunted. They had retreated but hadn't lost interest in the conversation. Fu was staring at the reception, not really paying attention as he wrestled with his own internal demons and doubts. What the admiral and his AI had said had hit more than one nerve he realized.
>
“I underestimated him,” Fu murmured.
“I think we all did,” Mrs. Fu said. He turned to her. “We have been blinded by our ideals for centuries,” she admitted, hands tucked into her red kimono.
“It is who we are. Civilized.”
“He just pointed out that we're not. Not in comparison to him,” she said, smiling sadly. “I checked. He was telling the truth. His clippings show his education and heroism.”
“You admire him,” Fu accused her.
“I do,” she said simply. “I think it is time for us to rethink our position on this.”
Yan Fu frowned. “He is a soldier. They cannot be trusted. He will seize power if he can.”
“And yet he hasn't,” she said with a smile.
“He...”
“I'll remind you that my father was a military man. A general in his time. My little brother was killed by pirates. What the admiral said about them is true. You can't fight them if they are here among us.”
He stared at her, shocked to the core to hear her say that. To doubt him, to not back him. She smiled again, this time tenderly. “You are my love but you blind yourself with arrogance. We need people like him to keep us safe. To do what we cannot. Draco should have taught you that. It is easy to feel superior. Far harder to truly be superior.”
He was still staring at her. She looked away for a moment, looking into the camera as Irons entered his quarters. Of course the cameras in his quarters were now blocked. “He is a good honorable man. A man who chose to put himself in between those like us and the barbarians. We owe him for that. Our respect. Our support so he can do his job as best he can.”
“You... you have never spoken this way before,” Fu said. He was lost now, unsure of what to do. For the first time in his long life his usually submissive wife had an opinion that differed with his own. That shook his worldview.
“You were never ready to listen. You still aren't sure are you?” she asked sadly. She noted the admiral had exited his quarters in record time, dressed in his usual coveralls and moving with speed and grim purpose. She was fairly certain of his destination.
Ghost Station (The Wandering Engineer) Page 79
